


Wishful One-Shots of the Monster Hunter Variety

by SolWishes



Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Ancient Dragon is Angry, Behemoth hurts, Body Horror, Body Modification, Bombs away, Cross-posted, Crossover Event, Ecliptic Meteor sucks as a MH mechanic, Fatalis is Cruel and Intelligent, Food Fight, Gathering Quest, Libation, MMO Mechanics do not belong in Monster Hunter, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Rotten Vale, Short One Shot, Turf War, fire everywhere, lazy day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolWishes/pseuds/SolWishes
Summary: A steady collection of One-Shots updated upon inspiration.Current: Lazy Days - Rotten ValeSummary:As an ecosystem based around decomposition, the vale hardly gets a day of general peace and quiet.The days that are silent however, are absolute boons for all involved.This includes the palico group that is tasked with a simple gathering mission.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 33





	1. My Thunderous Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The White Fatalis muses.  
> An introduction of sorts to the MH4U Hunt.

**My Thunderous Will**

_I do not measure time in seconds, minutes, hours._

_Days and weeks? Mere heartbeats._

_Years – trifles._

_Decades, centuries, are but waves in time's river._

_Eons._

_That is the unit by which I measure time._

_I have lived for many eons._

_An apocalyptic inferno bore witness to when my blackened instincts infuriated to crimson_ _reason._

_Heaven's judgment heralded my ascension from volcanic rage to thundering purity._

_Such is the Fatalis cycle._

_An undisturbed will of the gods themselves – that our physical bonds develop with impunity._

_Yet it seems that those gods have now forsaken us._

_My youngest brother, blackened and feral, fell to four mortal souls. His body fell to the depths of darkness. My piercing cry split the seas._

_My younger sister, of crimson rage and reason, fell to four hardened spirits. Her soul descended to volcanic madness. My piercing cry split the earth._

_I remain._

_Four godslayers now dare to intrude upon my birthright, bestowed upon me and my kin from the souls of the Schrade rebels._

_For once in my many eons, I measure time in hours, minutes, seconds. Heartbeats._

_Four hours for them to arrive at Schrade. One heartbeat._

_One minute for me to locate all four scattered souls. Four heartbeats._

_Ten seconds for my mere presence to eclipse the very sun. Eight heartbeats._

_From the darkened epicenter I emerge, and slowly perch upon an ancient pillar._

_I speak, in an ancient tongue unknown to them._

"By my will, I command the heavens!" _Peals of bloodied lightning descend at my beckoning._

"By my will, you shall face judgment!"

_I drop down to the ruined castle's floor._

_My noble snout mere feet from one particular hunter –_

_Their leader, dressed in my sister's skin._

_My blood-red orbs bore into his, as I gaze upon his trespassing soul._

_A phoenix cry, a primal bellow, both surge forth from my maw in a symphony of hellish despair._

"I am your rapture."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'My Thunderous Will' was a short drabble I posted on FF.net in May 2019. I wanted to post it here in hopes that I may get more reception in regards to comments/constructive criticism for the sake of simply wanting to write, and wanting to improve on it.  
> I hope you'll all come to accept me in the future.
> 
> Thank you for your time in reading my work. I appreciate it more than you know.


	2. The Strange Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It began with a spark.

It began with a spark.

It began with a single spark within the deepest, once unlit reaches of a simple, igneous cavern, as a smooth, silk-like river flowed.

Through the eons, the spark learned to cocoon itself within the purest fibers, as it evolved from an ever-present brightness, to a pulsing heartbeat, having coalesced itself from the mere rhythm of vast energies being absorbed, and transfigured its state of being from light, to a physical frame manifesting as a singular _core_ \- marred only by the inherited thoughts of countless Elder Dragons long deceased, and vengeful.

_The small bipeds that wear our skins and wield our own claws against us, they have wronged us._

_They hunt us relentlessly._

_We merely wished to live, until they took that chance away._

The core could only respond in kind.

**Come.**

**Come to me.**

**Should you pass on, may your spirit find its way to me.**

**And when the time comes, allow me to be the arbiter of your will.**

And the Elders obliged as their lives faded away, as their bodies fell down to the deepest reaches of that deathly vale for final rest.

The core felt that lovely influx of undiluted energy ebb and flow into its undeveloped self and strengthening its physical bonds as bioenergy washed over its indeterminate frame in an ever-increasing volume, this time crafting bone, muscle, and hide from that ethereal substance. Layer by layer, layer _after_ layer of bone, sinew, flesh, and organs grafted one after another on top of each other, in tandem with each other in a macabre dance of development.

And thus, the spark became the core, and the core became flesh.

And the flesh grew undisturbed for many, many eons.

The byproduct of such a process of bodily development soon became apparent when crystalline stones began to form, their frames coursing with pure bioenergy, and running rampant throughout the volcanic recesses of the region.

Then, one day, the offering of one Great Molten One was stopped, and its energy fell away and lost to the waters, dispersed among the gentle waves of the sea.

The offerings of a single Wind-Bearer, Corpse-Keeper, Sun-Weaver, and a Ruination were hardly enough to cover the affront of the vast loss of energy; thus, it knew, that the cause could only be those offending bipeds, those insignificantly microscopic sparks of light who only held the sole purpose of devouring each and every brighter wick around them.

The pulsating calls ceased upon the trespass of four tiny souls in its crystallized haven. The time had come, as it attempted to use its vast amounts of power.

Several undiluted beams of pure, concentrated energy broke through its cocoon, searing and cutting through the cavern in unrestrained, untrained fury.

The time had come.

And as it slid down headfirst upon the ground, senses novel and unknown sparked to life in that single instinctual instant, and then it _knew,_ that the four that stood before it were but four of many, of countless other bipeds that offended nature with their stolen skins and claws.

It loosed upon the world an otherworldly, unearthly, and utterly _unnatural_ howl from the transparent, glowing flesh that was its maw, as its heart glowed, _pulsed_ red with each eldritch beat that shined through its solar-blue skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, Xeno counts the Palico as an offending biped.
> 
> Please pardon me while I get used to formatting on here.  
> Comments/criticisms are always welcome.  
> Thank you for reading!


	3. The Pure Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was like witnessing the birth of a star.

It woke to darkness.

Its weakened, crippled form lay within a void of collapsed darkness comprised of fallen spires and cliffs, lit only by the faint glow of decimated streamstones. It took a few moments to adjust to its now-conscious state, as its burning eyes of molten orange glowed within the blackened cavern.

Its entire body flared with pain - from its shattered horns and marred face to broken wrists that resembled shattered crystals, to the lining of its wings sheared like rocky layers, yet nothing compared to the horrifically severed spinal connection that laid at the end of its tail stump, which once was a great whip ending with two grand fins that flowed, coursed, with sheer energy.

Now, however, it was but a dethroned emperor, and one without a single seat of power. Rage filled its otherworldly veins and flowed for but a moment, before coming to a sudden halt when the pain set in and grew a momentary touch too much to bear. It had to calm itself if progress was to be made in its lengthy recovery.

It laid its head down upon the rocks which hummed with the familiar lullaby of streamstones and the thankfully gentle noises of the world around it which coursed with bioenergy-laced water and roiling magma deep underneath its draconic frame. It dreamt of a second chance, through the pain that plagued it even in sleep.

When next it woke, it was to the intensity of the light within its environment, as it noticed thin branches of light that came forth from the ground and weaved into its forelimbs in a web of energy. As the bioenergy from the ground below flowed into its body, it felt sheer elation as it watched its wrists repair themselves with an unforeseen vigor, as glowing tendrils of sinew shot out and amalgamated with the shattered remnants of its limbs and soon it became whole once more. With eyes wide in surprise, it took in more energy than it did previously; after a few moments, it felt a swelling within its skull, and then a crack upon two places atop its skull as the old horns gave way to newer, much stronger, and denser crown spikes, all the while keeping its darker coloration.

More energy flowed into its body as it maintained its connection with the vast motes of energy that lay deep within the earthen recesses, and soon enough, more crystalline sinews developed - this time, upon the wings, and reveled as the lining of its wings shone over with a newly grafted sheen of brilliant blue, as the distinct lines of starry constellations made themselves known for the first time.

When its eyes regained focus after such an intensive period of concentration, it gazed upon the world with newfound awe as the course of bioenergy illuminated every iota of its field of vision. _The very souls of each and every denizen of the world were all exposed to mine eyes, all of them as naked as a kindling fire exposed to the merest of whims of a winded breeze._

It grew capable of staring into the eyes of the world, and the world could naught but gaze back into the entropic abyss that was its form which slowly grew to regain its former glory. Yet, when the beast stared at the blank stump of its tail, its rage could only return, but the pain that ran through its body lasted for but a single beat. It released a single victorious huff of air from its nostrils, before taking the moment to recline on the ground, until it at last fell asleep, exhausted from the previous endeavors; this time, with hardly any pain coursing though its dreams.

The next instance of its waking was met with the sight of dulled streamstones, and an even duller earth. Deep in its sleeping reverie, the energy that had flowed within the area was instead diverted to itself, and thus it had drained the entire immediate area of energy. The pain within its tail, however, became nonexistent, and the beast was met with the sight of a healed fleshy stump at the end of its tail. A quick glance-over of itself revealed a strangely loose patch of skin on its forelimbs and snout, a fact that made itself even more evident with the manifestation of a strange, skin-deep irritation.

It would need to relocate to a new, and equally isolated locale, preferably one far away from those pesky bipeds. And yet, everywhere it looked, it saw only rubble from a collapse that had come from above. A collapse of its own design, after bringing forth one too many beams of concentrated energy upon the ground which the bipeds once stood. It channeled forth a steady burst of energy, and released its might upon the ceiling in its attempt to free itself. The result of the channel, however, was a beam that blasted away rock with far more berth and potency than was initially expected, due to all of the energy it had absorbed. The blast was enough to clear away rubble on a tremendous scale, and after but a few moments, a large, gaping hole in the bedrock was all that remained of the rubble, as sunlight slowly filtered in. It stretched its wings lazily, as if almost bored, then lifted off the ground effortlessly, beating its great wings until it passed through the opening of its design, and at last felt the beautiful rays of the sun and the winds of the world upon its translucent hide. At last, it could live within the world it was born into, and savor the moments without being cut, smashed, or shot at by the heretical claws, bludgeons, and projectile launchers of the offending bipeds. Now, it must find a new home.

A bright blaze of energy far off within the horizon enraptured its attention. Its energy signature was vast, and could only be attributed to that of an ancient corpse of a Great Molten One. At once it flew, greeted by the sights of an endless horizon and a sea of skies filled with the wings of so many other creatures. Upon arrival at the lands it felt guided to, the dragon was greeted with a series of biomes utterly unrelated to one another, yet somehow still interconnected in a delicate cycle of the balance of power. That the result of a single Great Molten One's death resulted in the birth of an entirely new environment, was quite the staggering find for the translucently blue dragon. Each step it took, it felt the endless thrum of bioenergy underneath its feet, and it was _wondrous._

And everything was ripe for the taking.

It channeled once more, watching as the veins of pure energy flowed through the ground until they made contact with its limbs, branched into its body. Every single iota of earthen energy, every drop of bioenergy coursed into its veins, its arteries, every tissue and organ driven into a critical state as the body took in more and more, greedily consuming more and more raw power from the earth. It felt a familiar thrum of power as it went supercritical, its heart pulsing red through its transparent chest. A sudden burst of sinew from its tail, and after a few moments, a brand new tail emerged, yet lacking the fins it once had. The cost - the desertification of a large portion of the forest, as it turned to wastes.

Yet it did not mind, for it felt the hum of energy that still lay deep within the earth, and the bioenergy of countless deceased dragons, all within its bones, and all throughout its immense frame.

It felt powerful. It felt whole, and unstoppable.

It felt...itchy.

It pressed one forelimb against another, out of instinct, and scratched. The limb came away with a patch of transparent skin stuck on its claw.

It let out a brief, somewhat confused squawk.

It touched at the skin underneath, newly exposed after the patchy shedding, and experienced the briefest horror when the fresh flesh felt far too tender for its liking. It decided that it needed a place of seclusion, a haven of absolute isolation, and immediately. It took off in flight, and after a brief search, came upon a decrepit, multi-tiered valley nestled within an exposed cliffside. _Here_ , it thought to itself, as it landed among the barren rocks and the windy passages. The energy was decaying, nearly decayed, even, but just enough to denote that not a shred of other life lived nearby.

The itch came back once more, utterly oppressive this time, and pressing itself upon the various rocks, grew utterly determined to relieve the absolute, body-wide irritation.

Several levels of the valley's rocks soon became absolutely covered in countless layers of shed, scratched off skin, giving the impression of flayed, frayed patches of lost fabrics of an ancient time long before.

After many days, the itch had finally begun to die down. It lay perched upon a stone, feeling one last urge to scratch, yet it could not. This last layer would have to be shed, sloughed off. The only reprieve was that it could see a hint of its true hide beneath.

With a show of some effort, and several irritated grunts later, the final layer of skin was cast off, and left to simply fall limp and upon the ground. What emerged forth from the translucently pale hide could only be described as a crimson nightmare, as the Descended Emperor came forth. Its voice rumbled deeply, as if a sinister chuckle.

It stood upon its hind legs, and erupted in a triumphant roar, as it claimed its dominion.

\---

Some time later, after the massive, indiscriminate manipulations of the Tremor Caster were laid to rest, and the land that had lain settled on the Great Molten One's back began to pick up the polluted scents of the offending bipeds, the Emperor could only wait, as it bided by its own time, storing within itself a nearly endless store of sheer energy.

When their scents were discovered within its own lair, it acted immediately, and with the intent of swift retribution, yet they fled, wisely, before such judgment could be mete. That final biped though, held the familiar scent -

A frightening, rippling bellow of rage emanated throughout the valley.

_Thou who hath bested me before, shall not be able to do so ever again._

It was inevitable, the confrontation. The affront of trespass was punishable, thus, by death. And yet the biped, with its troop of three other allies, managed to once more locate its lair, had established a plan of attack, and then went about executing it.

At first, the fight went erroneously for the bipeds. Their heretical arms merely bounced off the superior durability of the Emperor's scaly hide, until the one with the broadest blade used an unusual, extending claw-like device, hooked themselves upon its face, and then swung their blade down with a hefty blow, before using the force of their fist, combined with their body weight and gravity, to inflict a marring gash upon its snout. After that, the force of their attacks seemed to hit all that much harder. Soon, they all flew every which way with their strange devices, inflicting one gash after another with their blasphemous arms, causing wounds and scratches to mark the surface of its once flawless hide.

It regained the advantage when a glancing blow with its mighty lash knocked one unfortunate biped off their feet, causing them to fly back several feet from the high power that laid within the limb. The Emperor noticed this, and with a mighty leap, soon towered menacingly over them, fangs bared in a display of absolute dominion. The red dragon lunged forward, only to find the biped's offensive weapon, the fused form of its offensive fang and defensive hide, and crafted from what tasted like a Monarch Thunderer, lodged within its mouth. The biped's frame _screamed_ with fear, and in an act of utter cowardice, threw down a cloud of briefly green smoke; the next moment, the coward had disappeared.

Furious, the Emperor charged forth a beam of retribution, absolutely obliterating the offending arms in a liquefying shower of terrifying heat, before continuing the arc in a wide sweep parallel to the ground. It continued firing when it noticed that its stream of power was being blocked by a single defensive wall. It turned its concentration towards the defending coward, the heat only growing hotter and hotter with each passing second. Steam began to hiss upon the barrier, and the briefest shouts of concern could be heard from behind it. One biped ran in one direction, as the wall stood tall, until, at the very last moment, the heat grew too much to bear, and the shield collapsed upon the floor. The Emperor ceased its barrage for but a moment, glaring at the biped with malice, stalking towards them with thundering steps. The biped had crumpled down to a knee, leveraging their weight with a lengthy, false fang. The Emperor got within mere feet of the downed biped, and sniffed, catching the briefest scent of a Blue Empress. An impressive feat to best one such as her, surely, but one that was still too easily punished. It took a brief glance around with its eyes, noting the other members were frozen in anticipation of what was to come.

The Descended Emperor opened its mouth, unleashed concentrated, plasma-hot hellfire upon its target, and left nothing but ashes.

It was marred far too much by their arms. It needed healing, and so it took in energy from the earthen reserves so as to bolster its defenses. Instantly, the gashes inflicted by their weapons disappeared, and to gain some more time for recovery, it descended to the level below. One biped briefly knelt by the slowly wafting pile of ash, and gathered some in a leather pouch before pursuing.

Upon the second level, four crags stood tall, and covered in shed skin, as several loose patches weaved in the wind. The coward did not return. The one with the broadest blade, the one that had bested them before, put up an incredible offense, the Emperor conceded; it was actually capable of feeling the force behind each and every blow that would have normally incapacitated any lower creature. In response, it made a point to weave the fight among the rocks, to burden that particular heretic's maneuverability. The sprightly, lithely framed one with projectiles from its specialized armament was quite a hard one to catch, but a pulse of energy knocked them off their feet when they had gotten too close. Their spark ended when a successful lunge lifted them helplessly off the ground, before a point-blank and enormous stream of concentrated sun-hot fire shot through them over and over again, piercing their pinned body with the flaring lances of a rippling barrage, before blasting them a far distance away, as their unmoving body ignited into flames.

The biped of the broadest blade, with tear-stained eyes, swung at the Emperor's face with full fury, and managed to scar its snout with a jagged, sickening crack. Rearing back in surprise and a newfound rage, the Emperor shook off the offender, took to the skies, and unleashed wave upon wave of streaming blue fire that carpeted the entire arena. The biped's tears hissed and burned at their eyes due to the sudden wave of heat pouring forth from the dragon's maw; thus, in a nearly blind stupor, they made their way towards the nearest, prominent crag, the texture of shed skin making the landmark evident, and only when the raw broiling of the temperature dropped by a steady amount did they know that some measure of safety had been found.

The brightness of the fire only intensified as the Descended Emperor poured more energy, more _rage_ , into each wave of boiling, hateful fire. When it reached the peak of malice and hate, of an intent of destruction so purely undiluted that nothing else could be done, it unleashed more. The product of such condensed power, fueled by such radiant negativity, manifested in stillness, as all that could be witnessed was a single, blue star, slowly descending upon the grounds of the valley.

The sapphire nova erupted with hellish armageddon, sounded by the trumpets of screams.

The Commission's Sapphire Star bore witness, and promptly fainted to the display of power, seeing only flashes of washed, red waves and scorch marks upon every conceivable surface of the arena.

The Emperor reared back upon its hind legs, and roared in undisputed triumph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up One-Shot to "The Strange Soul."  
> I hope you enjoyed the read.  
> Comments/constructive criticism welcome.


	4. Stars Among the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Its breath was wrapped in hellfire as it turned the world to ice.  
> Its crown was wreathed in lightning, as it walked the path of dragons."  
> \- An account of the sole survivor of her hunting party

Beneath the blackened skies of ash, smog, and fire, upon an encrusted expanse of volcanic rock surrounded by the miasma of acrid heat, and a moat of lava, a dragon of darkened, darker scales finds rest upon an igneous dais. Blessed with a reverie of brief sleep, the dragon slumbers, occasionally grunting as it suffers a brief unconscious wave of pain caused by the ingrowth of its own traitorously sharp scales.

Through the deep fog of sleep and the melted condensation of sheer iced sheets, its scales still shine with a beautifully fierce glow reminiscent of stars that dot a canvas of galaxies. An irritated huff lets out as an exhale that erupts into a puff of fire which paints its maw a momentary red. Periodic blue sparks of lightning dart across its deep purple scales and settle within its wings, pulsing with excessively high voltage.

Even in slumber, an illuminant glow of vibrant violet courses down its horns and neck, as sparks of dark red wash over its torso, causing a pigmented sea of pure darkness to bathe its heart. It still remains in blissful sleep.

From within a volcanic hollow, a team of elite hunters, having taken a top contract to slay the beast that slumbered below, slowly begin preparations. Cool Drinks, a vast array of potions, from the Mega variety to the Max and Ancient, Rations and Steaks (Well-Done, because they are so tasty, of course), all par for the standard course. Seeds of Might and Adamant, Lifepowders, Dust of Life, a mandatory Farcaster, and a Smoke Bomb or two, makes for an inventory complete. The lead hunter, the rising star from Moga Village, looks over her team members.

The man in front of her, a Loc Lac veteran, wears his reverently crafted Yamato Prime armor; his trusted Brünnhilde mounted upon his back. A man of soft words, many joked that his sword spoke louder than him. A statement he proves true with each and every hunt.

Stepping forth from the tent in his Lambent armor, a lackadaisical yet still highly competent, and prodigal dual blade wielder from Yukumo pops a Might and Adamant Seed into his mouth simultaneously. In his other hand, he holds his trusted blades, Alkaid's Asterism, which he has held in his possession since the start of his career.

By the dimming fire, a hunter from Val Habar, dressed in armor of the Golden Lune, sits with her trusted Heavy Bowgun, the Stygian Temperantia, as she rifles through her ammunition choices. She checks everything, in an effort to ensure her equipment flawlessly operates in the heat of the moment.

And standing by the blue supply box, dressed in the brilliance of the Silver Sol and her beloved Starlight Gate upon her back, the lead hunter takes stock of the situation. She reminds everyone to use their Faracaster whenever necessary, and drink a potion regardless of whether it was a glancing blow, or a nearly fatal one. She handedly points out with a stern face a simple, single command in the shuddering silence.

_Do not take risks._

Sol steps out of the camp, sees what lays in front of her, and immediately throws down a Smoke Bomb.

The Lambent immediately sharpens in focus as he sees a large shape stirring within the haze, and soon enough, the first blow is struck when the Yamato charges a powerful attack, bringing the massive sword down upon a hardened lash. _Ping!_ goes his beloved Brünnhilde, futilely bouncing off the tremendous limb, as a look of shock appears on his helm-covered face.

The others join in with a flurry of motion. Lune aims her Temperantia and fires one powerful Clust after another as she aims for the wings. Lambent begins his bladed dance, as Yamato regains his bearings and attempts to gather himself for another blow. Sol draws her blade, her extension of self, and starts to weave her river of death.

They are all soon silenced by the furious roar of the Alatreon as it rears back; then, as it touches down on all fours, it unleashes a hellish burst of fire, which quickly detonates and expands in a vortex of hot-blooded rage. Yamato brings his blade up in time to block the torrential motion of the blaze, as the mounted shield on Lune's Heavy Bowgun takes the brunt of the force. Miraculously, the bowgun's barrel somehow survives the roiling, excessive heat. She takes the brief moment to load in her sharpened Slicing ammunition.

The Lambent and the Sol, both successful in weaving away from the blast, take the initiative and flow back into motion, their blades making contact with the Alatreon's own sharpened plates. Realizing that they are not making any sort of headway, they resolve to strike at its tail, in hopes of dampening its all-around offense.

No one expects the dragon to unexpectedly warp in color from darkest purple to sheer black in its entirety, as crimson-streaked lightning surged like an uncontrollable maelstrom, its roars akin to the screams of the damned and condemned. The sheer force and radius of the unexpected attack strikes Sol and Lambent with high force, but it is Yamato that catches the worst of it, as sparks continue jumping off his body, causing his nerves to light up in a cycle of hyperactivity. He can no longer feel a connection with his Brünnhilde, as the Dragonblight mars his body; the element of the blade temporarily lost to him.

The Alatreon screams once more, charging at each of them in a flurry of motion and of crimson sparks, as it growls on occasion from the pain of its ingrown scales. It manages to connect with Lune, knocking her back several paces and sending her sprawling onto the floor. It briefly spars with Lambent's demonic dance, only to rear back when the blades manage to shear off an entire piece of its chest plating.

With each passing moment, however, the fight slowly turns more in the favor of the elder dragon. Streaks of crystal blue lightning dance upon its once-more purple scales as it takes flight, breathing forth a torrent of sheer ice from its fanged maw; the hunters could only run in a state of semi-panic as the elements continue to barrage them, a brief, fleeting thought of the volcanic arena around them slowly changing due to the dragon's attacks soon became thoughts of running in large arcs to survive.

The Lambent takes a misstep, and finds his foot frozen to the igneous rock underneath him. He does not notice the elemental weaver landing near him, he only sees a great shadow; he does not realize that the shadow is the dragon itself, as its scales lit up like stars upon an abyssal galaxy. The dragon rears its head back, and from its mouth erupts forth a fierce geyser of all-consuming fire. The Lambent closes his eyes in grim acceptance.

Nothing is left. Not even ashes. Not even Alkaid's Asterism. Not even screams.

Yamato charges in with a heavy blow, managing to lob off but one spine off the tail in his fury.

Lune launches a heavy barrage of Crag shots from her backline position.

Sol weaves her resolve with her slashes, and goes in for a fierce lunge.

The Alatreon briefly falls to the ground from the brief opening provided by Yamato's heavy strike, but it soon recovers, and then spins in a fury. Sol and Lune are knocked away, and the elder dragon pounces upon Yamato, pinning him underneath its right claw, and breathes down at its feet a sea of fire. Within moments, the arena underneath its feet begins to melt from the extreme temperature. Yamato can only flail about as magma burns him through his armor; soon, the Alatreon forces him underneath the magma itself, and holds him there. The beast channels a cacophonous storm of the dragon element to ward off Sol, but is forced to move after a few tense seconds of Lune firing round after round of explosive Crag shots.

Yamato does not resurface.

Sol and Lune can only continue on. 

The dragon's breath escapes in smoky huffs of orange and red, as lightning courses through its piercing twin horns; the ashes in the sky freeze in place, then become replaced with flecks of snow, with each beat of its wings.

Each and every step it takes is wrapped in a dark blur of bleeding lightning.

Reason and strategy give way to instincts, as the two hunters trade blows with the dragon. They do not see a dragon, however, they only see a void of space littered with stars, just as the dragon only sees a blazing sun and a cautious moon.

The Alatreon must admit, the two cover each other's weaknesses fairly well; the Sol creating a fierce vacuum of space that promises death with its blade, while the Lune launches tide after tide of harmful projectiles.

When the moon bends down to reload, however, the great dragon sees an opening, and leaps, effortlessly, over the sun's reach, and behind the moon's back. It laces dragon element with its next charge, and knocks the moon into the sun. Taking to the air, the beast strikes them both with a terrifying, sudden blast of thunderous lightning from its wings, stunning them. It then breathes wave after wave of ice upon the two, freezing both of them to the ground by their feet. Relentlessly does it continue its freezing barrage, until it gradually encases the two up to the waist, then to their torso, then in entirety.

Looking within the transparent block of ice, it can still see the hateful gazes of the two hunters. The Alatreon huffs with pride as it holds its head up high, then flies away, breathing forth a blizzard in the volcanic wasteland.

The Guild sends out a search party, only to encounter a valley of ash and ice when they stumble upon the two hunters frozen within the makeshift glacier. They immediately attempt resuscitation; they succeed, but the success does not stick. The Lune passes away in her bed, and the Sol loses her left arm to the ice's bitterness.

The Alatreon in question is never heard from again, but people still believe that it is still out there, blending in with the night skies, its glittering black scales a mere front, like stars among a void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments/criticisms are welcome.  
> If you would like for me to write about any monster in particular, please feel free to let me know.  
> May the hunt be ever in your favor.


	5. A Tale of Two Maws (AKA Food Fight, AKA Turf War)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food fights are like turf wars, only with bigger messes, and less rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to MrJacob77 for the writing idea!

_Within the Elder's Recess_

It was the scent of metallic blood, it was the allure of bioenergy, it was a feral abyss, it was a ruthless brawler, it was the state of hunger, it was the state of extinction, it was the era of dread, it was the era of acceptance, it was the one feared by the many, it was the one feared by the mighty, it was a season of gluttony, it was a period of pride, it had nothing on mind but food, it had nothing to mind but food, one would eat its way to hell, the other would rather smash its way to purgatory - in other words, the period of hunting in the Recess was so unlike any other point in history, where a starving devil would insist upon a brawl with a giant of destruction for the sake of feasting upon a weakened wind-bearer.

It began in an earnest fashion, when a Kushala Daora of advanced age, and late in a confrontation with four human hunters, took to a cliff for rest, some wounds still bleeding through its metallic plating. Several hundred feet away, in a crystallized cavern below, a dark-green, pickle-textured brute wyvern infamously known as Deviljho picked up the sweet, sweet scent of bleeding food, one of its favorite varieties of food, next to food that was raw, or electrified, burnt, washed, frozen, tingly, tangy (though tangy made it angry for a few moments). Eagerly did it make its way up the pathways and walls with a one-track mind led mostly by its stomach as it carelessly, callously knocked over and away the tiny humans attempting to ascend the cliffside closest to the wind dragon's makeshift nest.

The Kushala awoke to the sight of a green evil that licked its toothy chin. It took up a stance on all fours and roared at the devil in defiance. As the green one went in for a charge, the wind-bearer took in a massive breath of air. It went to release it - 

**WHAM**

From above, so preoccupied were both parties, that neither noticed the dive-bombing descent of the spiked entity of destruction. A large smokescreen enveloped the area due to the sheer force of impact; only the shape of two gnarled horns atop a terrifying shadow could be seen, as a large forelimb came down from above and slammed down upon the wind-bearer's skull, silencing the wind-bearer as it at last joined eternity.

The Deviljho growled then roared in a defiant challenge at having its opportunity of a freshly-made kill stolen. The perpetrator simply looked at the brute, then turned its head, ripped out the metallic throat of its next meal, and consumed a piece of bloody flesh. The one crowned in spikes held its head high, splayed its wings to full length, and roared with mighty force as it slammed a forepaw on the ground for additional emphasis.

The Deviljho narrowed its golden eyes. The Nergigante merely looked down its snout with contempt. For a brief moment, the two were locked in a brawlers' stasis.

In an instant, the brute wyvern stepped forward in a lunge with surprising speed, entering the dragon's fighting field. The Nergigante shot its right forearm forward in reaction, and promptly connected with the devil's maw, successfully breaking off a sizeable amount of fangs from the brute wyvern's toothy chin. The brute flinched back in response, before stepping forward with a powerful shoulder check that connected with the dragon's neck. Using the newfound leverage, the Deviljho lunged and dug its teeth into the exposed side, before using its incredible neck strength to _lift_ the dragon off the ground, before slamming it onto the rock and dirt with tremendous force not once, but twice, before throwing the dragon a distance away, in hopes of having a second or two to take a bite from the wind-bearer's corpse.

The Nergigante briefly saw pain flare through its vision as it was tossed aside. It shook its head and regained its equilibrium over a few seconds, then grew enraged upon seeing that the bipedal brute had the audacity to tear chunks out of its rightful claim. It went to move forward, feeling a great deal of an all too familiar weight upon its entire body - its ivory protrusions, once white, had hardened considerably and changed color to a shining black. The dragon roared in challenge, catching the brute wyvern's attention. It flew up a short distance into the air, then threw itself forward with heavy momentum, slamming into the Deviljho with such force that it was sent flying back until it hit a wall, whereupon it fell down upon the ground to flail about in a moment of temporary, brief helplessness. The Nergigante roared, its spikes littering the area behind it for several feet back. It went in for the kill as it jumped up, its right forelimb lifted up behind it.

The Deviljho, unfortunately, managed to grab hold of the elder dragon's neck with its powerful, toothy grip, before using it as leverage to right itself up. Its jaw was swatted aside by the spiky arbiter, but the green glutton grew relentless and impatient as it rushed in and leveraged a firm hold of the elder's neck once more, before slamming them down onto the rocky ground. It attempted a second, much harder slam, but as it reared back and up, the Nergigante beat its wings and used the momentary wind force to right itself. It placed its left forelimb on the glutton's upper jaw and its right upon the lower, and then it _pulled._

Through sheer force, the arbiter of destruction pried open the jaws of gluttony - a feat that made even the Deviljho's eyes shoot open in shock - and with a mighty wind-up, it barreled down onto the brute wyvern's jaw with so much power that it crumpled over, a resounding crack and a sickening pop emanating from the impacted skull.

With panic and sudden clarity barreling through its thoughts, the glutton righted itself on its two hind legs, and slammed its head onto the ground, popping its jaw back into place. With a somewhat weaker roar and a desire to not weaken its maw any further the Deviljho charged forward with its right shoulder, only to be met with a fierce snarl and a dragon's paw harshly impacting its charge. With a mighty bellow, the Nergigante swatted the brute's face aside, then curled both of its front paws around the Deviljho's neck, before lifting off the ground with a tremendous beat of its wings. The arbiter of destruction took sweet satisfaction in watching the glutton's eyes widen as the spikes scattered about its body began to harden once more.

The Nergigante roared with a surge of sudden strength and rage, and dove down at a harshly acute angle. Upon impact, black spikes flew every which way, though a vast majority of the head and arm spikes found themselves embedded in the Deviljho's muscular flesh. The absolute harshness of the landing caused several more cracks to resound throughout the brute wyvern's body, and in a last ditch effort to obtain some semblance of victory, it swelled its muscles until they reached a fever-red in color. The tightness of the swelled muscles pushed out the myriad of spikes embedded within its body, leading to some profuse bleeding. And yet the hunger still guided it.

With a surge in strength and rage, the brute wyvern stepped back and let loose a volatile stream of crimson and black energy at Nergigante, striking it square on its torso when it had reared back for a wind-up smash. The dragon unexpectedly lost its balance and fell onto its back with a pained grunt as dark red and black sparks of dragon energy seared throughout its body, and causing its newly formed spikes to harmlessly fall off onto the ground. The glutton walked over and planted a foot on the dragon's chest, placing its large, cumbersome weight on the Nergigante's ribcage, causing the dragon to grunt in pain. The glutton opened its mouth and bent down, tearing a piece of flesh off the dragon's forearm, this time causing the elder dragon to bellow with pain and aggravation. After a moment of savoring, the Deviljho prepared to let loose a concentrated stream of dragon-element energy.

_Thump._

A single stone impacted the side of the Deviljho's face.

_Thump._

Another rock, this time, impacting right next to its eye.

The Deviljho growled, and turned its head, only to see a hunter with a humongous barrel in their hands; five more laid beside the one it held. They somehow appeared sheepish and embarrassed, then ran off towards the nearby ledge, where there stood three others. They briefly spoke amongst each other, though the one with the barrel appeared to be chastising another.

Neither the glutton nor the destructive arbiter realized that one of the armored bipeds had let loose a particularly fast projectile from their weapon until fire exploded, as flames and smoke filled the sights of both monsters, while loud roars filled the ears of all four hunters. A shrill sound of pain emanated from within the smog after a fierce melee lasting several seconds, despite the fact that everything felt as if it had instead lasted for hours.

When the smoke cleared and the roars ceased, the hunters were shocked to find the Deviljho motionless on the ground, a spike of hardened, blackened ivory piercing through its eye, and the force of a Nergigante's forearm atop the shed protrusion. With a growl of contempt, the elder dragon stomped its forelimb onto the deceased brute's head, and roared, head held high, in absolute victory.

The elder dragon turned to look at the assembled group of hunters. It huffed at them, before it limped over to the wind-bearer's corpse and opened its mouth, and began to feed upon the metal dragon's hide. When one bold hunter walked over to the Kushala Daora's corpse, the Nergigante growled. The hunter immediately dropped to both knees and lowered their head; finding the act of subservience acceptable, the Nergigante took several more deep bites into its meal, then backed away and laid down nearby, grooming itself as it watched the four small bipeds taking sharp, detached claws and tearing off scraps of hide, horn, and bone from the metal one's body. After they finished their effective skinning of the Kushala Daora, the bipeds moved over to the Deviljho's remains, and worked from there, repeating the same process.

Their leader, the subservient one, as Nergigante noted, had apparently found something valuable. As that individual came back with its arms outstretched and with a sort of reverence, the elder dragon soon found out why - they had managed to carve out the most valuable, and the only palatable portion of a green glutton, the coagulated gem that lay deep within the core of their heart.

With a gentle gesture as the gem was placed on the ground, the biped walked away with a simple nod of their head, before they and their three companions flew away on crested drakes.

The arbiter of destruction held the valuable gem in its right paw and admired its beauty for a few moments, before throwing it into the air and catching it within its mouth. With a simple crack and a quick gulp, it let out a monstrous sigh of contentment, then fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a choice between having to write either Deviljho and Nergigante, why not write about both?  
> As always, comments/criticism will always be welcome.


	6. Lazy Days - Elder's Recess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is a myriad assortment of days - some hectic, some lively, some lazy.  
> This is a lazy day.  
> This is a recess for the Recess.

_Elder's Recess_

In an expansive cavern of volcanic rock lined with large, white crystals protruding from every angle, there lay a Dodogama within the ground next to an angular crystal spire.

To no one's surprise, and certainly not to any Gajalaka's, the Dodogama was fast asleep, its quaint snores a gentle reverberation of soft purrs to anything within earshot.

So deep into sleep it was, that it did not notice - nor would it have cared to - the rolling rumblings of an Uragaan. As the brute wyvern came to a stop with a mighty slam of its hefty chin, the ground momentarily shook, the impact's shockwave naught but a momentary discomfort to the slumbering Dodogama beneath the ground several yards away. The Uragaan simply lumbered over to a nearby deposit of exposed minerals, and began to feast upon the vast quantity of precious material within the crystal vein.

After an extensive time feeding, the brute wyvern reared back, then tucked its head close to its body as it rolled away to the warmer recesses of the region for a restful digestion of its meal.

It had been a long, brawl-filled day for the Nergigante that trudged into the cavern, as it sat down on top of a rough patch of crystals. It rubbed its arms across its face, then nibbled at the large white spikes. Successfully managing to take off only one spike, the elder dragon smashed its arm on the ground, shattering the rest of the ivory-white protrusions that made a constant effort to inconvenience it with incessant pokes and prods. With a huff, it laid down upon the ground and licked its front paws; before long, it soon grew tired. The Nerigigante laid its head down, and within a few minutes, it fell asleep underneath a crystal formation. It snored heavily, with an odd, blissful expression on its face.

Atop a high ridge, a Kushala Daora simply sat upon a bed of crystals; what normally would have been a pain to trek and rest on, was a boon for the metal-skinned dragon, the coarse mineral deposits a welcome back - and body - scratcher. The dragon let out a satisfied, content huff, though it manifested as a momentary blast of harsh wind. It regarded its calm surroundings with a gentle appreciation; soon, it could finally rest.

Within the harsh, volcanic center of the Recess, a gently constructed nest laid off to the side of a volcanic rock structure that lay surrounded by a constant stream of magma. On either side of the humble nest sat the proud parents - a Teostra and Lunastra. Idly did they bide their time, as they rotated napping shifts before the inevitable hunt began.

Currently was the Lunastra taking a soft nap, gently leaning on her mate's side. Her snores came through in a deeply soft manner, something which made her Teostra purr in appreciation. He scanned the area with his eyes once more, before nuzzling his head against her mane. He gently nudged her awake when he began to hear little cracks coming from the eggs.

Elsewhere within the Recess, a sleek, obsidian-blue brute wyvern found its way down a meandering path. Soon it reached a zenith where the lava horizon met cooled igneous, with two broad ramps plateauing; on one side, an aberrant group of Gastodons intent on keeping their grazing spot, the other remained empty, save for a single pile of herbivorous bones. Simply wanting rest, the Brachydios lumbered up the rocky ramp, bent down, and leaned against the wall. It briefly toyed with the nearby pile of bones, though they quickly became a pile of ashes after some slime found its way onto the bones through an accidental application via its fists. One brief puff of smoke later, and the Brachydios readjusted its weight, calmed its breathing, and fell asleep in the generous shade.

At the end of the day, the Dodogama roused from its sleep, lumbered to the already cracked open minerals of which the Uragaan had already gotten a taste for - Dragonite Ore, its favorite! - and messily ate its fill. Its only thought being, _What a productive day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around for this lazy chapter. More lazy days will come for the other biomes, if you are all interested.  
> As always, comments/criticism will always be welcome.


	7. Absolute Dominion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It did not belong, so it carved its own place into the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: In no way is this particular one-shot related to Lazy Days - Elder's Recess.  
> 

_Elder's Recess_

Within the crystallized cavern of the Recess, a Dodogama slowly eats its diet of rocky minerals. It lazily meanders, venturing down into the blazing hot portions of the locale, where the lava flows freely and the temperature reaches extreme highs. The Dodogama, however, pays no mind to the heat, and instead revels in the locale's generous warmth before exiting the red-hot cavern, and eventually the fanged wyvern settles down in its standard space next to a large crystal spire, a small patch of its upper back the only portion of its body jutting out from the dirt. It soon falls asleep in its blissfully peaceful ignorance.

Nearby, a gathering party of four Gajalaka search for resources. One holds a crudely-made pouch as it wanders to and fro gathering various berries, while another one nearby beats at a nearby rocky outcrop in an attempt to gather its valuable minerals. A third one dances in place as it debates poking the sleeping Dodogama with its javelin. The fourth Gajalaka, in the midst of harvesting beryl, gets distracted when a bizarre shimmer appears in the air without any provocation; the tiny mask-wearer lets out a panicked squawk when the shimmer soon becomes a visible tear that only grows larger in size.

The gash in space and time tinges with a strange hue of light-blue that then explodes with brightness before it quickly darkens, just as a monstrous paw asserts itself upon the ground. The vestiges of two wicked bull-like horns emerge, then a fearsome maw curled back in a snarl. Soon, another paw emerges, attached to an overwhelmingly muscular forearm. A few seconds pass and a stocky neck creates cracks in the sky as it breaks into the world. Several more moments pass, and an absolutely bulky torso shatters its way through the darkened vortex, as the rest of its intimidating body comes through - its enormous, nature-defying frame of intense, raw strength stomps on the ground, and immediately its boastful presence takes its dominion over this strange, energy-blessed land.

The Gajalaka flee for their home with utmost haste due to the absolutely _unnatural_ presence of such a creature bearing down upon them; however, it is too late - the final images burned into their beady eyes are the fleeting glimpse of a large rock that emerges from the skies prior to its impact, and then, a bright flare that burns away their masks in a moment smaller than a nanosecond. All that remains of the Gajalaka foragers lies on ground so burnt, that the differences between their ashes and the recess's dirt remain indistinguishable. Fires rage throughout the cavern with a boiling heat hotter than a volcano's subterranean core.

The Dodogama rouses itself in a panic when an unnaturally blistering wave of heat and fire broils across its back. It digs itself out of its comfort zone and immediately regrets doing so when it comes face to face with a giant possessing purple skin, large amounts of rippling muscle, and fierce features. The last things it sees are horrors - a vicious blast of lightning, multiple vortices of shredding wind, a giant, flaming rock materializing out of the sky, and then powerful jaws shooting straight for its neck. When the fanged wyvern feels a sharp vice grip onto its spine, it lets out a fleeting breath at the harsh crack, then mercifully knows no more.

The Behemoth growls, as ash and dust fly all around a blasted expanse of earth. As it looks about its handiwork, it briefly hears the soft footfalls of multiple bipedal gaits. It turns and sees four blasphemous _humans_ with various tools upon their back. It growls, a vicious snarl on its face despite its newly obtained trophy, then flings the dead, inconsequential corpse far off to the side, before squaring its posture towards the party of four. It rears back and roars, blue light emanating from its face as it makes the flames die out with a brief magical gust. The Behemoth trains its unblinking eyes to glare at the trespassers.

**\- Duty Commenced -**

The humans branch off; the one with a large shield and a long stick takes their position straight in front, and jabs at its horns - the sensation of weapons is an all too familiar one, though the materials in these weapons possess an odd, almost draining feel to them. The Behemoth does not expect the brief explosion of gun weaponry to blast it in the face, though. The beast goes to slam a fist upon the shield-bearer, only managing to impact the solid metal wall of their shield, before another stick poke and gun blast impact its face simultaneously. In retaliation, the Behemoth's face glows red and it rears back to roar, as it summons a swift meteor to come down in an attempt to smite the shield-bearer.

All the while, a wielder with a graceful blade weaves their strikes upon the beast's hind legs in their attempt to strike at the highly elevated tail. They decide to flank instead, after realizing that their airborne glaive ally held consistency with their weapon hits. A meteor swiftly blindsides their side, and the graceful blade wielder is sent flying off to the side in a brief cloud of smoke.

The fourth human, with a simple short sword and shield, observes the fight and briefly takes stock of the situation. The shield-bearer is breathing heavy with exertion and the graceful blade is reeling from a hard blow; thus, a Lifepowder is sprayed, just as the short sword finishes charging a powerful, leaping blow. In an instant, the shield-bearer holds his shield higher, tighter, and the graceful blade seems more in focus. The sword and shield-wielder consumes one Adamant and Might Seed each, and watches as their teammates seem to glow with just that much more energy and tenacity.

The Behemoth slams a fist upon the ground, just only missing when the shield-bearer effortlessly backsteps out of range. It roars, as blue light flashes across its eyes, and soon a wisp of wind follows after the airborne glaive. Within mere moments, a massive whirlwind forms and batters the hunter out of the air, and the Behemoth grabs them, then slams them down brutally on the ground three times, before throwing them a decent distance away, leaving them bruised, beaten, and bleeding.

A smash to the face followed by a larger explosion of shell fire leads to the Behemoth focusing heavily on the shield-bearer, as its face and body glow red with powerful focus. The shield-bearer swears that the monster's vision is burning into them with precise hostility; a series of brutal attacks - from shoulder dashes that spanned the arena, to harsh paw slams and the summoning of countless meteors out of the sky - only serve to prove the theory that the beast is very, _very_ angry with them.

An oddity occurs when the Behemoth summons a comet out of nowhere in an attempt to flatten one of the hunters. The rock in question just barely manages to miss the target, as they successfully rolled out of the way, but the rock now stands tall and unmoving upon the ground. Both the shield-bearer and short-sword briefly trade glances and nod, as they both get the gut feeling that the beast should be kept away from the comet. The shield-bearer readies himself and prepares to lure it a fair distance away.

The fight continues in a brutal fashion, as the hunters find themselves wondering how a beast like this could so easily defy nature's standards; after all, something this large moving as fast as a Nergigante was once considered unheard of. With careful planning, the hunters manage to drop two giant rocks from the cavernous ceiling to strike the beast. It responds in kind with a brutal, literal shower of meteors upon the humans. The Behemoth experiences the displeasure and pain of its claws breaking from the power of their weapons. It retaliates with a devastating, wide arc of electricity that manages to strike all four of them. Two of them are stunned from the electrical strike, so the Behemoth rears back on its two hind legs and then smashes the ground with its forelimbs, sending out a powerful shockwave that leaves them reeling and bleeding. The giant beast, desiring to finish the fight conclusively, stands back up on its hind legs and growls as it channels its magical energy into a devastating, decisive strike, the excessive amount of power warping the very air in front of it into rapid swirls; in mere seconds, the air begins to bleed red and a black vortex rips into existence. The short-sword manages to recover first, and quickly drags the ones closest to the blast radius over to the comet while chewing on a piece of jerky, their teammates briefly catching the scent of the flavorful snack. The graceful blade wielder manages to right themself, but misjudges the distance to where their allies are, and attempts to use the strange gesture they learned from the Moogle. The shield-bearer regains their composure and lifts their shield overhead, propping it up on the comet as a sort of precautionary measure and attempt to protect the short-sword and glaive-user.

Right when the Behemoth falls back down on all fours, the graceful sword takes to the air. A massive rock of apocalyptic power crashes down and impacts the ground with such force that the entire Recess reels from the impact, as flames and heat burst forth and roil throughout the cavern, indiscriminate in its eclipsing destruction. The shockwave echoes throughout the entire Recess - several airborne wyverns fall to the ground from the harshness of the impact, while a number of brute wyverns simply feel the sensation of momentary weightlessness as they find themselves moving through the air, until an impact with a nearby wall blissfully knocks them all out. An unsuspecting handler, in the middle of taking a bite of food, catches the shockwave head-on, and flies into the tent with such force that she takes the camping structure off its tethers just moments before her body impacts the wall, rendering her unconscious in an instant.

The comet crumbles away from the force of the impact, leaving the awestruck hunters to view the horrific sight of a vast inferno all around them; they are left with the fact that the hulking beast they are fighting had just sent down an attack of apocalyptic power with relative ease.

Taking advantage of their brief stupor, the Behemoth runs up and smacks them all away with a paw before running deeper into the Recess.

Moments later, the graceful sword-user falls back to the ground as a crisp, steaming, empty suit of armor, the timing off on their jump by just a few seconds. After a painful moment of consideration, the hunting party counts their losses, and chooses not to chase after their target.

\- **DUTY ABANDONED -**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extreme Behemoth can go die in a fire.  
> R.I.P. Dodo.
> 
> As always, comments/criticism is always welcome.  
> I hope you all have a successful hunt.


	8. Forbidden Blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sapphire Star triumphed against impossible odds.  
> As a reward, the Alatreon gives them its own version of blessings.

"Oi, Fiver, I took the parts ya got from that Black Dragon, and crafted this armor fer ya," said the Second Fleet Master from his usual perch, as the conveyor belt slowly brought out five pieces of masterfully crafted armor. The hunter could only stare in wonder at the incredible attention to detail that lay within each piece.

"We still got plenty material left over for a weapon, so be sure and come back when ya made up yer mind on what ya want to swing around." The hunter nodded in response.

"The Escadora Wisdom, made from those unusual horns, is said to saturate the wearer's heart in darkness," said the Third Fleet Master, her tone even, yet oddly ominous, as she walked into the Smithy, and approached from behind. The hunter could not help but slightly shudder at those words. "Yet from within the clarity of that void, the light of truth can shine through all the more brighter, if you can overcome the shadows."

The hunter stared blankly, with a pointed look that seemed to communicate, ' _Really?'_ as she approached the helmet in question, its two pronged appearance oozing with an aura of forbidden knowledge that held the slightest bit of allure. She picked up the headpiece and looked it over, marveling at how a portion of its crown glowed with an intermittent light of its own. She glanced at each Fleet Master with her, then at her palico - of whom only _Nya'd_ in concern as a response - then placed the helmet atop her head.

A whisper slipped into, _through_ , her mind, its tone a softer touch of whetstone tinged with smooth gravel.

_O glorious Sapphire Star, I commend thee on thy victory. Allow me to grant upon thee the limitless depths of my knowledge and wisdom._

And with a draconic laugh, the Alatreon drowned her mindscape beneath a swirling vortex of dark blue waters. Flashes of its life, from its humble beginnings of just beyond its empty eggshell to an image of where it suffered under the captivity of an ancient race, to freedom within the skies. Images fell through her mind for what felt like hours. The fall of an entire civilization. Traveling the world with fellow elder dragons. **The visage of a dark dragon so foreboding -**

 _It is the brightest of stars that must contend with the darkest of skies, little_ _Sapphire_.

A flash of light pierced through the liquid veil.

The Sapphire Star blinked, and found herself back in the Smithy, her eyes looking up towards the ceiling, and herself surrounded by the smithing crew, the Second and Third Fleet Masters, two medically-trained wyverians, and a passing hunter.

"Are you okay, hunter? Your eyes swirled the color of an ocean blue before you collapsed in a heap," said the Third Fleet Master. "You were unresponsive for several minutes so we had to call in some assistance."

The hunter slowly sat up, shaking her head to clear her nerves. She nodded at the Third Fleet Master, letting her know she was okay.

_I shall wait for thee, little star._

She hoped she would stay okay.

\--

She was not okay.

The helmet stayed on her head for the past week. It was not by her decision.

She pondered whether or not it was wise to don the remainder of this suit of armor. The incessant whispers of the dragon urged her to continue, but she ignored it the best she could; the more that the dragon within annoyed her, the more the argument to leave the remainder of the armor alone grew more convincing. For the moment, she left behind the waistpiece, gauntlets, and greaves in her equipment box, all while attempting to ignore the intensifying whispers in her head.

She carried the breastplate under her arm as she made her way from her house over to the Council Table to further discuss matters.

Around the table, the Field Team Leader, the 'Serious' Handler and her hunter, her own Handler, the Tracker, and the Third Fleet Master seem engrossed in conversation. Whispers of the Black Dragon's name were thrown around, and the Sapphire Star wondered briefly for her safety due to the rumors that had spread around the Old World of the likes of equipment that belonged only to fabled heroes. She wondered briefly if she was in the same boat now; she tugged at her helmet with her free hand, and could not help shuddering at how it would not budge, despite allowing her hair to freely move. She walked up to the table, whereupon all talk ceased, except for the briefest whisper in the recesses of her mind. _I wait, little Sapphire._

"Please, do not stop on my account," the Sapphire Star all but whispered. "I just want to know what I seem to have gotten myself into," she said as she tugged hard at her helmet for emphasis. "Because Escadora Wisdom still does not wish to come off."

"Myth, legend, and reality - they are beginning to blur together...," mused the Third Fleet Master.

"Pard, right after your successful hunt in the Secluded Valley, we had sent in a confidential request to the Guild for knowledge of any kind on Alatreon, after we had sent them an in-depth report of findings and discoveries based on your hunt," reported the Handler.

"We finally heard back not too long ago. From what we have received, the number of times an Alatreon has been slain can be counted on a single hand...only three have been confirmed slain, with another two appearing as unconfirmed despite the appearance of equipment made from the dragon. Each of those records were kept under strict guard in Dundorma, under the watch of His Immenseness himself," said the Serious Handler.

"Each record also possesses an odd footnote - ' _Received the armor and a weapon of choice from the harvested materials. Refuses subsequent use after first wearing. Cause unknown,'_ " said the Third Fleet Master.

"According to word of mouth by associates closest to each of those hunters, the cause is the same - 'dreaded, ceaseless whispers from beyond one's mind,'" said the Field Team Leader.

"I personally knew one of those hunters. He was part of the Caravan in Val Habar. Jumpin' Jaggis, he was an incredible hunter. There was one time though, that he got really quiet for about a week after he came back from a couple 'confidential' hunts he had received in Dundorma. He brought it up to my commander that one of the assignments was a dragon with dual horns that could wield nearly all elements. He said it kept gazing intensely at him throughout the fight, like it was testing him. When he came back and had the equipment forged, he said it was like a Narkarkin' void gazing back at him. He never used it; he just put it under lock and key," said the short-haired hunter.

"Could it be that no one could handle listening to the voice within, until now?" the Third Fleet Master mused.

The Sapphire Star hefted the chestpiece onto the table. She looked around at everyone, then gazed long into the heart of her armor. In a flash, she placed it upon her frame, and the voice within seethed in silent delight. A sharp bolt of dark red seared across the hunter's eyes, as reddish-black energy ripped its way around her upper body, before stopping right above her heart. The others stepped back from the brief light display, as the hunter put a hand to her heart, finding her breath briefly taken away, her heart momentarily ceased.

A gasp escaped her lips as she fell to a knee. Darkness filled her vision, as she saw a familiar pair of horns glow within that abyss in her eyes.

 _Thine heart has embraced a dragon's truth - to truly know life, one must come to embrace death. The needless complexity of humanity is useless in the face of nature's eternal simplicity,_ boomed the dragon's silent voice.

The hunter's face went a brief shade of blue, as the others around her called for a medic once again. Her handler gently eased her down to the ground.

"The Escadora Soul is said to house an elder dragon's innate ability to unleash calamity. All of that power is surging straight into her heart, undiluted! We need to give her Nulberries, now!" said the Third Fleet Master.

 _Live an unburdened truth,_ said the dragon.

A breath, a heartbeat - both broke forth from the hunter, as light flooded her eyes, sound clamored into her ears, and touch reignited simultaneously. She looked down, feeling not the tenderness of flesh, but the scales of her armor.

 _Why does it feel like it's my own skin?_ she asked herself as she lightly tugged and poked at it with her fingers. Her brow furrowed when the armor pulled along as if it held her skin's natural elasticity, as she felt each poke of her fingers upon the individual scales. She felt the expansion of a foreign diaphragm with each breath she took; her frame shuddered with fear at the thought of losing what made her, _her._ She broke into a sob, as the fellow hunter gently placed a Nulberry to her lips. She chewed it slowly, feeling only slight relief from the shocks of Dragon element.

She ate nothing but Nulberries for the rest of the evening, but it did little to calm the budding chasm within her heart. Her friendly party of supervisors, however, helped ease her spirit, if only somewhat.

Nothing could prepare her, however, for the intermittent phantom pains of several sharp scales growing inwards into her chest, preventing her from sleeping that night.

\--

A few days passed, and the hunter acclimated to the odd sensations caused as a result of her armor acting as a second skin. She found herself growing more in-tune with the elements of the world around her - something she found herself appreciating whenever she took in a breath of fresh air and felt the world hum and vibrate in-tune with her very being. The Sapphire Star made her way to the training grounds while her palico held onto her Escadora Armguards. She felt the palms of her hands itch in burning anticipation; she swore she saw sparks in the air above the gauntlets though. _A note for caution,_ she thought to herself.

"Please be careful with those gauntlets, Snow. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Nya!"

She chuckled. She restrained a shudder when she felt the dragon join in laughter.

Within the next few minutes, several other wingdrakes swooped by, dropping off the Field Team Leader, his grandfather the Commander, the Admiral, the Seeker, the Tracker, the Huntsman, the Third Fleet Master, one Serious Handler, one not-so-serious Handler, and the fellow Fifth Fleet Hunter. A medic had come along as well, unsurprisingly. All of them had landed in front of the Clutch Claw practice target known only as The Cart, a random thought that made the Sapphire Star only shake her head in amusement.

"I am appreciative of this ever-increasing support system, but are you all not needed elsewhere?"

"Perhaps, but for right now, we are needed here," said the Field Team Leader.

"Besides, we all have to get to the bottom of this armor's mysteries," added the Admiral, as the Third Fleet Master nodded in agreement.

"You said that your armor...spoke to you, correct?" asked the Seeker. "Truly, a marvel of mysteries beyond our understanding."

The hunter made her way to the equipment box, where her greaves and waistpiece lay. She momentarily debated between the two options of tearing off the wound wrapping, or just suffering through an armor piece at a time, but in that moment, she decided to get things over with while in a controlled environment with friends and fellows around her for support.

She slid the greaves on, feeling an intense chill permeate throughout her body.

The chill took physical form, when she took a single half-step to the side with her left foot to adjust her weight, and saw a frozen footprint left behind. Icicles soon manifested, as they climbed her legs. Within moments, a glacial layer covered her lower body.

"Impossible," growled the Huntsman, as the others looked on in worry.

A flurry of ice blue filled her view when she made to put on the waistpiece.

 _The path that thou shalt walk shall inevitably end, little Sapphire,_ whispered the calamity.

_Will thou press forward?_

_Or w_ _ill thou be frozen in thine own fear?_ The frost built up into an immobilizing glacier around her ankles, slowly creeping upwards towards her knees and thighs.

 _Will thy mind drown beneath the waves?_ Her thoughts swam in disorienting circles as water droplets hovered in the air, gradually coalescing together into giant, hovering orbs.

 _What of thy heart? Will the darkness consume it?_ Phantom pains of bladed scales encroached upon her heart from the ribs, inward, as dark lightning arced across her ribs.

She managed to slip on the waistpiece, despite it all. Blue bolts of electricity arced across her hips and around her waist.

_Will thy doubt stun thee from action?_

Snow's intuition came into play as the palico ran towards her with gauntlets raised high above its head, then dove towards her hands. The palico fell short however, and the gauntlets flew unguided and onto the ground.

Above the palms of the Armguards, a crimson spark grew - 

_Will thy resolve burn away to ash?_

**NO!**

\- then bloomed into an inferno not a moment later.

"Each piece of Escadora houses its own element. We need to get the gauntlets onto her hands to balance the other elements!" said the Third Fleet Master.

The Huntsman and the Field Team Leader sprang into action. They managed to find a gauntlet apiece within the flames, while the others ran for cover. The two quickly scrambled towards the Sapphire Star.

The flames died down in intermittent gaps, and everyone could hear the labored breaths of their shining hunter as she held her head low. Soot splattered upon her neck and arms. She slowly, painstakingly, raised her arms, then froze in place. The Huntsman and Field Team Leader hurriedly paced their way to her unmoving form, placed each Armguard on her outstretched limbs, then stepped back.

"Has she stabilized?" asked the Field Team Leader.

A ring of water slowly coagulated into existence upon each wrist. Everyone watched from behind the barrier as the water bubbled and began anew as an arc of dark red lightning. Within the next few minutes, the other elements had manifested themselves upon the hunter's arms as a fiery red blaze, a haze of blue electricity, and an aura of ice. Her eyes blazed, with foreign understanding, of the need for release. The Huntsman and Field Team Leader ran towards cover in full sprint in realization.

She punched the air in front of The Cart, and the very atmosphere _rippled -_

"EVERYONE, GET DOWN!" yelled the Commander as he, his grandson, and the Huntsman all went flat to the ground a fair distance away. The Admiral hefted the two Handlers in one arm and the Third Fleet Master under the other before he dove behind a large rock. Everyone else ran to the edges of the training area before they fell to the ground, except for the Seeker, who leapt with his glaive to an elevated, less exposed portion of land.

-and the atmosphere erupted, as a veritable cataclysm of all five elements swallowed the training area in a vacuum of absolute quiet.

 _I must congratulate thee, little Sapphire,_ whispered the dragon within.

Dust flew everywhere. Rubble laid strewn every which way, the training grounds left unrecognizable. Everyone slowly regained their bearings as they all rose from the rubble. Their gazes fell onto the hunter's obscured frame, where all that anyone could see were her glowing eyes as they rapidly cycled through colors.

The air soon filled with a circle of rapidly repetitive, dissipating disasters. Oppressive waves of roiling heat, frigid temperatures, waves of falling rain, arcs of lightning blue and dark red, all roiled through the once peaceful area.

Then, it ceased, and the air cleared.

"By the Five," gasped the Commander, as the Third Fleet Master covered her mouth in shock.

The hunter stood as the epicenter of an unparalleled disaster, with an Alatreon Melt somehow pierced into the ground in front of her.

Patches of sharp scales marred her previously unblemished skin. The ornamental horns atop her helm had gained a touch more length and twisted outward, glowing ominously. Her hair flowed freely beneath the helm, though now sporting various shocks of glowing purple, pink, and white. She flexed her hands, and found that yet another piece of armor had fused to her skin. She brought them up to her face, and felt an odd line run past her lips. Slowly, she opened her mouth, feeling the thin line expand, leaving her to discover that her jaw had partially elongated and distended itself to resemble that of a dragon's; she felt large fangs now protruding from her newly expanded gums. A muscular lash appeared from beneath the frills of the Escadora Might.

"Pard?" The Handler's voice pierced the veil of silence like a needlepoint. The hunter slowly, cautiously, turned her head, and the Handler could only gasp at the sight of her partner's eyes - what was once an enigmatic, wondrous case of heterochromatic blue and yellow irises, now held an otherworldly, hellish glow that framed the now-slit pupils of amber-red eyes; eyes that now freely flowed with tears.

The Handler slowly approached her partner, an arm outstretched towards a shoulder.

"We can get through this, Pard. We can do this."

An Alatreon's shrill cry pierced the air a moment later, as the hunter fell to her knees, her legs shrouded by darkness.

_Thou art blessed with ascension, O Sapphire Star._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if I kept you all waiting.  
> I want you all to know that I genuinely thank you for your support.  
> I wanted this one-shot to be a sort of experiment. I wanted to go the route of "Well, the armor is described as such, let's see what happens when we go with it." A liberty or two might have been taken, forgive me.
> 
> As an aside, Snow is the name of my palico in-game, and the basis for this one-shot's Sapphire Star was my own character. Figured I'd use them here.
> 
> As always, comments/constructive criticism is always welcome.  
> Happy hunting, everyone.


	9. Witness History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be a simple mission for the New World to delve into the history of a locale in the Old World.
> 
> It turned into a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trailer gave me the impression that the Commission was simply tasked with researching Castle Schrade, and then Fatalis shows up and makes it go 0-100 in an instant, so that's what I'm going with.  
> This is an alternate introduction of sorts, one that briefly alludes to the "high-and-mighty" people telling the Third Fleet Master not to continue investigating things that should be left alone, and then leads into the beginning of the hunt's first phase.  
> Butterflies are great.
> 
> That said, here we go.

**Seliana**

"Hunters, your attention."

A large man of dark skin and commanding posture took point at the council table as he was flanked by the Commander, the Admiral, and the Field Team Leader. The other fleet leaders, the Huntsman, the Sapphire Star, one excitable A-Lister, and their respective Handlers, were in attendance around the table. A scroll was in the man's hand, which he quickly laid flat on the table. He unfurled the paper, and a missive came into view, along with a rudimentary map.

"This is a direct correspondence from His Immenseness in Dundorma, sent with highest priority. He requests your assistance in a mission to scout out and delve into the location stated here on this missive. If the Commission is willing, His Immenseness has already approved for the expedition to go forward."

"General, with all due respect, why would an investigation of this scale be approved so quickly and willingly?" asked the Third Fleet Leader. "There are persistent, haunting rumors surrounding this location, as well as whispers of a monster more feared than the Blazing Black Dragon claiming it as its roost."

"You would be correct about the rumors; however, while the exact timeline of the devastation is still up for debate, what we do know is that the monster in question does exist, and it did in fact raze the kingdom until only the final bastion remained as the last standing structure. The Guild has been receiving reports stating that signs of movement have been spotted, and it must be investigated as soon as reasonably possible," replied the General.

"So why would they have you come to us now? What sort of development occurred to incur an investigation of this magnitude, and why request a majority of the Commission to take part in it?" asked the Commander.

"The recently reported incursion of the Alatreon in the New World, and its subsequent slaying, has brought the reputation of the Commission to new heights. His Immenseness has called you all into action." The General paused. "The Research Commission was chosen because the Guild believes you hold the necessary manpower to safely complete this investigation, as all but a select few of the Guild's handpicked hunters have never returned from this mission in particular." The Huntsman stilled upon hearing this.

"And yet we are still expected to say yes to this, General?" asked the Admiral.

"I am afraid so."

The Commander let out a sigh. "We will begin our preparations for this mission immediately, but on only one condition - if at any point the mission's progress goes south and something on a First-Class threat level occurs, then the Commission will immediately withdraw from the assignment."

"I will alert His Immenseness of your terms, though I am sure he will accept them, as they are within reason. I will return here in a month's time, if that will give you all ample time to prepare?"

"A month will be fine; a month and a day should the seas hold you," said the Commander with a brief nod. The General nodded in turn as he made to leave.

A fair distance away, at the Popo carriage, the Huntsman approached the General with a question that haunted his mind.

"...they never returned, did they, General?" asked the Huntsman in a voice simultaneously gruff and quiet.

"No, they did not. I'm sorry," replied the General, as he departed Seliana.

That night, the Huntsman was seen standing at the edge of the Gathering Hub's hot spring. His helmet laid off to the side, forgotten for the time being. All that mattered in that moment was the Blessed Wine he poured out of his flask, as it fell into the void below.

\--

**Astera**

Preparations went into full swing. The Field Team Leader stayed behind in Seliana to oversee its day-by-day operation, while the Admiral agreed to stay in Astera in the Commander's stead once the expedition departed. The high possibility of a threat rapidly responding to their presence once ashore was taken into consideration; thus, Dragonators were mounted on each ship, with each ship holding a healthy contingent of members from each fleet to respond to unique situations, a line of cannons down each side of the ship, multiple ballistae on standby with healthy supplies of ammo and binders, and a giant gong.

The hunters were placed under the tutelage of the Huntsman and the Sapphire Star for an advanced crash course on fighting intelligent threats at the Elder Dragon level. From Teostra's explosion that resembled the cataclysmic birth of a sun to the absolute zone of denial produced by the winds of a Kushala Daora, up to the advanced strategies of adaptability and responsiveness against a Blazing Black Dragon, tactics of all kinds were brought to light, from flash pods to "wallbangs" and the ever-present Temporal Mantle. Sleep ammunition and bombs were apparently a widely popular tactic, as was ledge-hopping.

Weapons were thoroughly discussed at an advanced level - from their pros and cons, to their strengths, weaknesses, and even synergy with other weapons. Weapon strategy held a high degree of importance, such as hammer wielders taking advantage of every possible slope they encountered, to longsword wielders appreciative of the new hunting techniques taught by a famed, blue-coated swordsman with white hair.

At the end of that weapon crash course, every hunter gained a deeper understanding of others' weapon of choice, a greater appreciation of their own weapon, and all of them even began to expand their horizons. Quite a few enjoyed the simplicity of the great sword, while others appreciated the dual blades' grace and agility. Many of them relished the aerial freedom of the insect glaive, while others found the charge blade's guard point technique absolutely exhilarating. Still others found the bowguns comfortable, while an occasional, thankfully good-natured pyromaniac basked in the gloriously explosive firepower of the gunlance.

Every single hunter gained a healthier respect for their Brace Jewels.

\--

On the red dawn of the day marking a month's passing, a single ship pulled into Astera's harbor. The General stepped off the boat, another scroll in his hand, and a stressed look on his face.

"I trust that you are all ready?" asked the General, placing the scroll in the Commander's hand.

"Yes. We have all of our hunting gear properly stored and prepared for any situation that might arise, along with the materials necessary to establish a makeshift base camp on-site. All personnel in attendance have been briefed and are prepared for their respective roles," replied the Commander as he opened the paper.

_His Immenseness has approved of your condition, but quite a few nobles have not._

_Take note of a wyvern's fangs; beware the dragon's maw._

_The Sapphire Star must shine, no matter what._

_Four aces make four of a kind._

The Commander cocked an eyebrow as he rolled up the paper and kept it close to his chest.

"I trust you brought some hunters for some needed assistance?" he asked.

"I did," replied the General. "I'd like you to meet some of the hunting aces I have had the pleasure of knowing back in the Old World. Alongside the Hunter of the 'Capital C Caravan,' they were instrumental in the Magala incident, as well as the repelling of a Rusted Kushala Daora that took place in Dundorma. Unfortunately, I could not get the Caravan's hunter, but I brought along those I could."

"Welcome to Astera, then," the Commander said to the aces, as brief pleasantries and nods were exchanged. "Now let's finalize the preparations so that we can set out by day's end. We have a long voyage ahead of us."

"Indeed. Now, here is the map of the castle..."

\--

"I see you've made plenty of new friends, cadet," said the Ace Commander to one excitable A-Lister.

"You bet your Rathalass I did!" he quipped back with a bright smile, one hand on the shoulder of one Sapphire Star, the other patting his handler's upper back, as a serious yet gentle expression made its way onto her face. At the next table over, their other handler companion nursed an entire platter of food that encompassed the entire tabletop, much to the chagrin of other members of the Commission. "They've been the best help I could've asked for in the New World."

"I can see why," said the Ace Gunner, her trusty bowgun mounted next to the Cadet's own heavy bowgun. "She listens to everyone, and her actions speak far louder than words," she said, as she looked at the Sapphire Star, catching a quick glance of what appeared to be the remnants of a scar on their neck; the hunter noticed a half second too late, adjusting their armor ever so slightly, subtly. A slightly sad smile graced the hunter's features as they nodded out of respect of what the gunner said, rather than in agreement.

"Thank you for watching over him," said the Lancer, his tone even and measured.

"Ahh come on, I've been doing fine, I've come a Lao-Shan- _Long_ way, you know! I even managed to take down a rogue Kushala Daora by myself!" he said, pointing a thumb at himself, his figure donned in said dragon's armor.

 _You even got the gems you needed on the first try, you lucky bastard,_ thought the Sapphire Star as she playfully rolled her eyes.

The gunner caught the look on the hunter's face and chuckled. "Someone's jealous of the Cadet's luck," she whispered to the Ace Commander, loud enough for the rest to hear. The Ace Lancer snorted, amused. The Sapphire Star could only smile - a genuine one this time - and mimed a laugh as she went for a swig of her drink. Everyone else joined in with toasts, a sense of camaraderie building between worlds Old and New, a bright light birthed at a single table on a ship heading into the fog of history's uncertainty.

 _To the road less traveled,_ thought the Sapphire Star, as a toast of her own.

\--

Arrival was heralded by a dark, forlorn sky for the stage that was a veritable, abandoned castle. Multiple sections of the courtyard laid in absolute ruin, with large chunks of stone and wooden construction all laid to crumbling splinters.

A shoddy barricade, seemingly rushed in its construction and dilapidated, yet still tall and oddly dignified, stood between the research field team, the hunters, and their handlers from their goal of the castle's courtyard. A look of confusion washed over the hunter's face. _Why is no one calling their wingdrake?_

"What are we supposed to do now, pard?" asked the Handler.

 _I don't know, maybe hook onto a wingdrake and fly over it?_ The Sapphire Star barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _We've flown from Astera to the Guiding Lands in a single trip, at an altitude even a Legiana would be jealous of; what could a wooden barrier hold to that?_

As she put her hand to her mouth to whistle for a drake, she was interrupted by the animated banter taking place between the excitable A-Lister, his former teammates, and their serious handler.

"Look, I'm tellin' you, that portal stuff was real, and that creature actually used magic! I'm talkin' all Shagaru Majuju with portals, roots, and whatnot! Just ask her, she had to fight it!" he said, pointing at her.

 _Ah, the Ancient Leshen,_ she remembered, shuddering at the memory of the walking tree-like being. _Never again._

She nodded in the affirmative at her fellow A-Lister's statement, making a motion that seemed to vaguely convey _giant roots came up and they wanted to kill me, along with Jagras packs and a swarm of Revoltures_. The gunner seemed to be the only one who understood, if the reaction she gave was any indication.

"And then there was the Behemoth incident...," quietly noted the Serious Handler. There was a collective shudder from that single statement.

_Rest in peace, poor Dodogama._

"So yeah, between a Duramborock and a hard place, we've been through it all, and we've been doing just fine. This should be a cakewa-," the A-Lister was interrupted by a hand over his mouth. A harsh glare from the Sapphire Star's eyes quieted any argument.

 _Do not tempt fate,_ her eyes seemed to say.

"Ah. Yeah, I get it. I'm sorry, friend."

Her eyes softened a touch, a light smile gracing her lips.

She whistled. A wingdrake responded. Within seconds, the Sapphire Star was on the other side of the barricade, waving in faux mockery before she turned around and went to explore the courtyard.

"Wow, we really were about to stand around like a bunch of Gargwin' idiots," commented the A-Lister. The assembled group followed their Sapphire Star's lead, and soon enough, the rest of the field research team had followed suit.

"Really, the brightest out of all of us," noted the Commander, a palm to his face as he dryly chuckled.

\--

"With this firsthand account of the castle's layout, we can now accurately depict some semblance of the history behind this place. But the questions remain - did the kingdom truly fall in a single night? Why did it fall to the dragon in the first place?" pondered the General.

"The castle is battered, but otherwise mostly intact on a structural level. The map was correct about the ballistae, cannons, and the Dragonator, however. They all seem to be functional, as well, perhaps as a result of the fairly dry conditions and lack of relative moisture in this area. The outlying columns and structures, however, are mostly unsound; they're crumbling, or on the verge of it," commented the Ace Gunner. "There are ashes everywhere, still to this day."

"Did the beast that did this...bathe the castle in fire?" asked the Ace Lancer.

"Most likely. The stone held up to this day, but time, and surely the sheer size of this beast, would be enough to crumble away whatever it desires. Perhaps it even kept the main building standing as a sort of trophy of its victory. But why did it do so? Why go to such lengths to exert such unholy cruelty?" asked the serious handler.

"Maybe they did something unspeakable, and its way of communicating that the only way to atone was in fire?" pondered the Ace Commander.

The Sapphire Star quirked an eyebrow.

"...ah, sorry. I have been told I have a lack of tact."

The hunter waved it off with an amused chuckle.

"I wonder if we could find out something if we investigated inside the castle," mused the serious handler. A deep rumble from below resounded.

"Did you hear that?" asked the Handler, as the Sapphire Star held up a hand to still her and the others. In a moment, there was no sound, only a tense moment filled with heartbeats.

Then, a rumble; a moment later, a stone structure collapsed into ruin. The anxious squawks of several Commission wingdrakes soon filled the air as they lifted off from their roost at the makeshift base camp.

Another deep tremble. The sky slowly grew darker; the red and orange-tinted sunset grew hues of dark purple, as yet another stone structure fell to ruins.

The field research party was not blind to the unnatural change that just took place around them. "We need to go, now!" yelled the Commander. "Hunters, hold the courtyard while we evacuate all personnel to the ships!"

 **"For the Commission!"** exclaimed the assembled hunters, as they scrambled for direction.

The Sapphire Star pointed, and whomever she pointed at, they went to where she directed; the Ace Gunner assisting with the verbal aspect. "You two, the ballistae," she would translate, to the two hunters dressed in Nergigante and Velkhana armor, respectively. "Man the cannons; we'll ensure you have someone to assist with its reloading," she said to another two of whom were outfitted in Teostra and Lunastra armor. "Commander," gesturing to the blue-armored, dual-blade wielding Ace, "you take point with the roaming ballista. The Lancer and Cadet -er, A-Lister, will join the Sapphire Star on the courtyard ground and engage the beast directly."

A quake came and went. It was close, far too close for comfort.

The Sapphire Star looked at the Ace Gunner. A hand on shoulder, then a nod over to the Dragonator platform. The Gunner's eyes widened for a moment, before she nodded. "Understood," she said, managing to reach the elevated platform just as a visceral quake shook the entire courtyard.

"Prepare to engage!" shouted the Commander. "Hunters, I leave it to you! May the Sapphire Star light your path to victory! All handlers, evacuate to the base camp immediately and standby for further instructions!"

Slingers were fired, hooks were engaged on drakes, and soon, after the crumbling away of yet another portion of the castle's ruins, the beast emerged, and stared at them all from the other side of the wooden barrier. Its unnaturally long, lithe neck went every which way, its head turning on occasion as its tongue poked out in a disturbing display of occasional amusement. It _quirked_ a scaly brow, as if it was asking itself, **_This_** _is all of what you have prepared for me?_

Shivers ran down every hunter's spine, the Commission's elite notwithstanding, as the dragon appraised each and every one of them. Sparks danced about its maw, as it looked upon the wooden barricade in disdain. Within a single wingbeat and an elegant corkscrew maneuver, the dragon was airborne.

A veritable vacuum of air formed around its great maw as it inhaled. A few, tense seconds passed as flame encompassed its mouth; then, in a detonation of heat and animosity the beast released a terrible, all-encompassing sea of roiling fire that consumed the entirety of the outer courtyard, the flames drowning all sound and sight within wave after wave of hellborne shades of reds and oranges.

"Everyone, fall back to defensive positions and prepare to find cover!" shouted the Ace Commander, yet all that everyone could do was stand paralyzed in fear.

The blaze churned like an ocean; for an entire hellish minute, the outer courtyard _burned_ , the dragon's eyes glinting with intelligent malice - it wanted to burn the entire courtyard as a simple display of power, because _it could,_ and if the two-legged gnats burned, then all the better - a calculative mind scheming behind those demonic, crystal eyes.

The Sapphire Star could only watch, captivated, almost hypnotized as the absolute inferno razed the outer courtyard. Her eyes were on the wooden barricade, curious as to how it could still remain standing as it were, despite the fiery barrage licking at the beams.

Then, cracking resounded. The sounds and smells of wood being burned - _cooked -_ and splintered beyond recognition. The metal reinforcements for the barricade melted into the wood, then burned. Charred, as black flecks of glinting ash spawned from the metal. Heat grew until the flames were streaked with white. Just the sheer wind produced by the churning of the dragon's flames was at an unbelievable level, as many of the wooden beams flew back into the hunter-occupied courtyard.

And then there was nothing. The flames ceased, and only charred embers, crumbled stone, and ashes remained in the outer courtyard. The dragon descended, touched down on the stone floor just outside of where the wooden barricade once stood. Ever so slowly, ever so menacingly, it crossed the threshold into the defensible inner courtyard of Castle Schrade. It reared back onto its hind legs, its chest aglow in a shade of superheated red.

Everyone snapped back to their senses once they heard the Ace Gunner gagging, crying out in horror.

"The legends are true!" she wailed, pointing a finger at the dragon's red-hot chest. Upon a closer look, against the smoldering backdrop of its torso, laid the crisp remains of countless suits of armor, all melted down into a crude, scale-covered slag possessed of the vivid hues of forged metals and scales in reds, greens, blues, and yellows. And everyone blanched with horror at that realization.

The Black Dragon Fatalis merely cocked its head and stuck its tongue out the side of its mouth in smug satisfaction. It clicked its jaws together as if it were laughing.

Then it reared back, and with a mighty roar, blacked out the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish you all the best of luck with the final free title update for MHW: Iceborne.
> 
> As always, comments/constructive criticism is appreciated.  
> Happy hunting, everyone.


	10. Lazy Days - Rotten Vale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As an ecosystem based around decomposition, the vale hardly gets a day of general peace and quiet.  
> The days that are silent however, are absolute boons for all involved.  
> This includes the palico group that is tasked with a simple gathering mission.

_Rotten Vale_

Deep within a steep ravine, surrounded by a veritable haze of ivory, bones, and effluvia, lay the massive, decrepit remains of two serpentine dragons - absolute behemoths that had gazed up to the sky, and became the land. Around them, a countless array of sinews and tendons belonging to various monsters and beasts litter the landscape with their fleshy shades of color, marred by the streaks and burns of effluvium-infused acidic rain, and the teeth of scavengers.

An odd twinge of silence - a companionable, almost watchful quiet - permeates the vale of those-already-dead.

It is on this day that a group of Felyne Palicoes find themselves tasked with gathering some Elysian Fruit for the Third Fleet's research. With somewhat bridled enthusiasm (after all, who would willingly go into the Rotten Vale?), the Palicoes, each equipped with a slingshot, venture forth from camp with Slinger Torches in tow, a healthy supply of rations, and an empty bag for their target quarry.

As soon as they clear the first path out of camp and jumped down into the vale's proper, the Palicoes feel a rumbling coming from a winding ramp leading uphill. Within moments, a rolling brute wyvern barrels through, its black, tar-covered hide coated in the bones of the fallen. A brief _'Nya!'_ of displeasure comes from the Palico group after the Radobaan narrowly misses running them over. The Felynes look themselves over for a moment, then continue on their way, observing the brute wyvern for a moment as it walks up to a pile of bones, stoops down, and begins to eat.

The Felynes, disgusted by the Radobaan's raw crunching of decaying bone, wander up a nearby ramp, only to freeze when they stumble upon the form of a Tigrex. The de facto leader of their little group lets out a sigh of relief upon realizing that the wyvern is merely asleep. The other Palicoes mewl with panic simply because the wyvern in question is still asleep; all of them end up panicking, however, when the Tigrex lets out a series of consecutive roars. With rapid response, every Palico draws their weapon, intent on defending themselves.

The group leader takes a quick look at the wyvern, and sees only the rhythmic rise and fall of its chest. Another roar burst forth from the massive maw, and only then did the Palico realize something quirky - the Tigrex was snoring. With nonverbal gestures, it motioned for the others to back up and leave the way that they came. One accidentally lets out a large "Nya!" in response - the Tigrex's slumbering form merely reacted by opening a single eyelid, looking around, and, determining that the offending bipedal cats were no threat, then let out out a louder than average snore-roar.

The half-awake Tigrex takes great satisfaction in watching the Palicoes scamper away, as it drifted back into sleep.

Deeper into the Vale the Palicoes thus travel. A whole host of half-eaten corpses litter their path, all ranging from Rathalos/Rathian and Anjanath, to Barroth and Glavenus; one Palico, wielding an elegantly crafted Legiana blade, receives the unexpected surprise of an entire Diablos corpse crashing onto the ground in front of it. The Palico's exasperated, shocked expression enough to divulge the sheer terror of it nearly being flattened by a deceased wyvern's massive hammer-shaped tail.

After a moment, the Palicoes scatter about the effluvium-filled walkway in search of their quarry; one fires off a Slinger Torch, and the fire brings forth not just a comforting warmth, but also a brief reprieve from the choking yellow smog of decomposition, while another carves off a few materials from the deceased wyvern's body.

The calm lasts not even a single minute, however, when an entire pack of paralytic Girros emerge from a nearby hallway and swarm the Diablos corpse en masse. The fanged wyverns rip and tear away with wild abandon - a whirling feeding frenzy whittling away at the large body. The Palicoes carefully venture deeper into the Vale, careful to avoid detection from the distracted horde of Girros.

The Felynes soon reach a large, flat expanse absolutely bathed in the smog of effluvium. Firing off their slingers to clear the noxious air, the Palicoes scour the area. They manage to find a supply of Slinger Torches, but no Elysian Fruit in their immediate area. Thus, they progress a little further in where, over by the waters on a small, somehow effluvium-free outcropping, the Palicoes find a strange, red plant. A Plunderer Felyne is standing nearby, and simply gestures to the plant in a _'Feeling lucky?'_ sort of manner.

The Palicoes swarm the plant with careful paws, and manage to procure two of their target quarry, much to the shock of their Plundering friend.

"Two meowre to go, nya!" exclaims their group leader, as they proceed ever deeper into the Rotten Vale, leaving behind a flabbergasted Plunderer Felyne.

They slide down the bend, eventually coming to a crossroads - to their left, a region with pools of acid, glowing luminescent blue; to the right, a fairly open cavern leading deeper inward.

They decide to go to the right first, noting the ribs protruding from the hole in the ground like macabre arches. A raphinos flies in from elsewhere, but is coated in a gray film that gives it an almost decrepit appearance. It flies down aggressively at the Palicoes, only to be intercepted by a red blur of motion. An Odogaron grabs the infected wingdrake, and then slams it down onto the ground. The slim fanged wyvern opens its mouth, revealing a fierce set of teeth, and bites down on the wingdrake's neck, applying further pressure whenever its target flailed. A final, harsh bite silences the raphinos, its struggles quelled as it passes. With a triumphant roar, the Odogaron digs in.

The Palicoes immediately backtrack and head towards the glowing pools. The atmosphere is somehow slightly lighter, with a distinct lack in the choking effluvium that persisted on the upper levels. One of the Palicoes sees what could suspiciously be the fruit of their labor, but does not notice the slightly shifting frame of a slumbering Acidic Glavenus adjacent to the plant. The others take note and attempt to warn the unsuspecting Palico, but the oblivious Felyne merely thinks they are being silly, and waves them off.

The Felyne in question digs at the plant a few times, but does not manage to find any Elysian Fruit in question. It throws itself back against the wall in defeat, content to revel in gently rocking back and forth in a somewhat steady rhythm. Confused after a few moments, the Palico slowly turns its head around, and comes eye to eye with a half-awake brute wyvern. It lets out a high-pitched, almost squealing whimper of a "Nya!" before it ever so carefully backs up and away towards the rest of the group.

The Acidic Glavenus wakes, shakes off the sleep, and grinds the acidic crystals off its tail by using its jaw. The brute wyvern roars and takes up a fluid stance, and the frightened Palioes take it as their cue to leave and flee further inward, traversing through a pathway blocked off by muscle sinews stiffened by decomposition.

The atrium that they step into smells absolutely horrid. A putrid mountain of flesh and bones lies within the fleshy cavern, as occasional drips of water and dregs of flesh fall down from the ceiling. The Palicoes gag and cough at the awful odor permeating throughout the cave.

Once they recover from their coughing fit, they take a quick glance around and note at least two plants that could possess their target quarry. Moving rapidly so as that they could leave as soon as possible, the bipedal cat creatures fail to notice the mountain of flesh moving, undulating as if something moved beneath the surface.

With an explosion of absolutely nasty flesh, the mountain bursts outward, revealing a Vaal Hazak in all its rotten splendor. The Elder Dragon sniffs at the air for a moment, before turning its gaze upon the gathered Lynians, all of whom appear on the verge of a heart attack from all that they have been experiencing so far. It makes no move for attack; instead, it opts to stretch its wings while it walks up to one of the strange-looking red plants. It takes a quick whiff, looks at the Palicoes and paws at the ground, as if beckoning them over. The Lynians all look at each other, and the group leader volunteers while the other three bicker with each other that they not be the one _to willingly walk up to an Elder Dragon_.

 _Your hunters do it all the time,_ the leading Palico thinks to itself while shaking its head, as it walks up to the Elder Dragon. The Vaal Hazak simply looks at the Palico, its expression unreadable, then gestures its head and eyes over to the plant. The Palico looks over and, upon closer inspection (à la squinting), realizes that there are _three_ Elysian Fruits ripe for the picking. It dives headfirst towards the plant with gusto, intent on gathering the prized fruit, while the other three Lynians in the group pause in their bickering.

Shock registers on the faces of the three Palicoes when they watch as the Vaal Hazak simply drops down into a lazing position, not even moving with any sort of aggression or hostility towards their group leader. Instead, it simply watches, tilting its head every so often in curiosity as the leading Palico plucks the three Elysian Fruits from the enigmatic plant, and placing them in a storage pack slung over its shoulder.

Their mission now complete, the four Palicoes set up a small signal fire incensed with scatternuts so that their wingdrakes can sense where they are. Before they leave, however, the leader pauses. The fifth fruit they had gathered would be valuable resource points, but their hunters had so much already, so after a moment, it makes up its mind.

The leading Lynian approaches the Vaal Hazak with an Elysian Fruit in hand, and with both paws out, offers it to the dragon. Intrigued by the Palico's behavior, the Vaal Hazak gently takes the fruit with the larger of its two bottom jaws, and _bows_ its head in genuine gratitude before walking back up onto the mountain of flesh and bones. The leader Palico flashes a bright smile as the Vaal Hazak takes the fruit and lightly chomps at it, softening the tender flesh with its striking, longer jaw. An instant later, the inner, smaller jaw's teeth hook onto the Elysian Fruit, and the dragon bites down, savoring the strangeness of both the flavor and texture, both not unlike a sort of otherworldly jerky.

Soon, the wingdrakes arrive, and the Palicoes all depart from the Rotten Vale; the lead waves at the slowly shrinking Elder Dragon, as they fly off into the distance.

Alone once more, the Vaal Hazak beats its wings, and the gray mist of its effluvium fills the atrium once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another lazy day down for the count, though we should all know by now that death never sleeps.  
> It will merely only rest.
> 
> As always, comments/constructive criticism is always welcome.  
> Happy hunting!


End file.
